#enjoy those eggs

[aesops-boy]

Everyone has probably already said and read all there is to say about the US election, but I need to get some things off my chest, so here we go:

I’ve seen a lot of blame from blue toward people who voted green. We knew it would split the party… is what blue would normally say. But this time, it really looks like it didn’t. Jill Stein hasn’t gotten any significant portion (read: not even 1%) of the vote in any given area, except apparently one place in Michigan? (As of writing this, at least.)

And to their credit, I’ve seen a lot of blue actually point this out, too. A lot of blue have acknowledged that as easy as it normally would be to blame a third party splitting the blue vote, it simply does not add up here.

However, I’m a bit disappointed with green. Maybe it’s just my algorithm, which would make sense given that social media gets a lot of success from trying to make you upset and therefore engage, but the responses from green have been troubling. It seems like every one that I see is… celebrating? That they made the “right” choice? The “ethical” choice? That they didn’t vote for genocide?

I mean, sure, I guess technically they didn’t vote “for” genocide… but… there is simply no world where an individual could reasonably believe that for this election specifically, all those blue votes were going to flip green. In fact, it might have even required red votes to flip green.

And it hurts because in deciding to vote to… ease their conscience? No, they didn’t split the vote per se, but it still hurts. “I decided to toss my vote! And I’m glad that blue didn’t get elected because it shows that voters will not stand for blue not supporting Palestine!” is what it sounds like. And what are the Palestinians supposed to do in the next four years with someone who is Hell-bent and has explicitly stated that he wants to wipe them out?

And I don’t want to make everything about me or about people in this country who clearly are not being bombed. But it also hurts personally because you can basically substitute Palestinians for any given minority in that sentence, and it will ring true.

No, green didn’t split the vote. But… can green only act morally superior because blue didn’t win? It feels like some weird version of “owning the libs.” Would it have been different if blue had won? What would it be then? Would green double down on claiming that blue voted for genocide? Would green claim that at least blue realized to not vote red or that even red saw the light and flipped? I don’t know.

And again, it hurts because for every celebratory video I see, every call that claims that green showed blue that they were serious about not voting for genocide and that they will organize and try to get green elected next time…

I hear, “I didn’t care about throwing Palestine under more bombs if it meant I could keep people from voting blue. I didn’t care about Project 2025 if it meant I could keep people from voting blue.”

And no, it’s not fair to blame green for how things turned out. But this is why I at least get so damn hurt seeing these celebrations from green.

I want green to organize. I want green to put a third party that could actually win on the ballot. I want green to put in the work on a large scale between these big elections to get the electoral votes. And I want green to put in the work at the local level to get a third party in from the ground up. I want a third party. I want to never be in this situation again.

As usual, the blame lies with the blue party, red party, and red voters.

The blue politicians alienated their voters. As much as green’s celebrations hurt, what I heard from the blue party was, “We’re willing to compromise with red by giving in to them and getting nothing in return. We’re willing to try to appeal to voters who will never vote for us. We know they won’t. But we’re still going to do this anyway.” Of course I know most of the blue politicians don’t give a damn about me or people I care about. But I was hoping they at least wanted power. This is such an extreme alienation, too; are they really so confident that they can retain their status as the only other option? Maybe. Maybe that’s exactly it. I don’t know. But I know it hurts, too.

And of course, red. Oh, red. Where do I even begin? Red politicians… repulsive. They say the absolute worst about people, especially those who are vulnerable to them. Red voters… I don’t understand. I must assume they truly hate people like me, or at the very least, they simply truly do not care what happens. When their neighbors disappear, when the blood runs in the streets, it will be fine to them. Maybe that extreme makes some of them uncomfortable, so they simply do not believe it will happen.

“Blue is oppressing us!” they say. So they vote for people who have promised to oppress blue harder. But those people are not just oppressing blue. They’re oppressing red who look like blue, who come from the same place, who aren’t the type of red they want.

“I just want things to be normal and prices to be cheaper,” says “more reasonable” red. Then why vote for the ones with an entire plan, a manifesto, laid out on exactly how they’ll make everything very un-normal? The prices won’t be cheaper when you’re unprotected. The big money would rather see people die than live so long as they can make money, so long as they can keep costs to themselves low, so long as they can make prices high. What makes you think they’ll see you as any different?

But I guess if more people like me (and many more who are not like me in the slightest) die, then gas will be cheaper. Certainly less demand.

I guess if more people like me (and many more who are not like me in the slightest) die, then that’s just divine justice for not voting green.

I guess if more people like me (and many more who are not like me in the slightest) die, then that’s just even fewer people blue politicians have to pretend to care about.

Enjoy those eggs.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

so REVENGE, HUH? or justice, if that makes you feel better. it tastes the same when cooked just right. 'I REALLY WANTED A BROTHER.' such a shame to burn a bridge you so desperately wanted to keep, especially when it wasnt even you who started the fire. especially when you hope that not a single fragment of that bridge ever washes ashore.[MAY IT ROT FAR FROM MY SIGHTS] an unfortunate loss! atleast he has his friends.

[potatobugz]

*picks you up and dips u in a vat of acid*

[hermestoaster]

For old times sake

[lupinedreaming]

Hi. I would like my fellow monster fuckers to consider this AU-ish xenomorph headcanon:

In my mind, most, if not all, xenomorphs are female. Although only the queen can lay fertile eggs, what if most xenomorphs possess underdeveloped ovipositors that can lay small, infertile eggs? And, being the primal creatures they are, sometimes an intruder into the hive finds themselves at the mercy of a drone who wants to lay her eggs somewhere …

[ryoalouette]

Got inspired by a Solo Leveling fic, then translating it to DPxDC

Here's another streamer cook Danny AU. The only oddity is that the cooking ingredients he got is Very Odd, Ominously Glowing Green, and sometimes the watcher of the stream/video really have absolutely no idea if the ingredient is supposed to be a root, some kind of meat or what.

Pre Jazz Knowing at the start, ofc. Common (fandom? canon?) misconception of people around him is that Danny is scared by ghosts, thus he always disappears from ghost fights, leaving Phantom to fight ghosts using the Fenton thermos supplied by him. Or something like that. Maybe the misconception too, is that he's dating Phantom that Phantom can use Fentom gadgets.

But either way.

It's Jazz's idea of eating something ghostly (aside from their living hotdogs and turkeys, that is) to make Danny less scared (ha) of the ghosts.

Now I don't remember when exactly Danny and co went to the GZ to explore, but the general idea is that Sam and Tucker just used Jazz's idea for lolz while they're in GZ that they stocked up some ghostly food ingredients.

GZ rock? Oh why not, we can have some ghostly rock stew like those Chinese people got! GZ tree bark? Ghostly tree bread! So on and so forth!

Meanwhile people in the other sides of the world is just. Am I tripping? So many bewilderment. Is the green green hue kryptonite (one of the Kents)?? Lazarus Water (one of the Batfam/LoA)?? For consumption???

[amiya-shirou]

While I do think it's extremely important to analyze a story and try to get a deeper understanding of its contents, themes, and characters, sometimes there's a big part of me that finds greater enjoyment in losing myself to the experience, to go through something I don't fully understand yet is so evocative and striking that it leaves a deep impression on me nonetheless. Sometimes I don't even want to understand them in full because that uncertainty is such a big part of my appreciation.

Serial Experiments Lain and Angel's Egg are both among my favorite anime ever, yet I would have such a hard time if I were ever asked to try analyzing them or fully convey why I love them. I know that there are plenty of theories and analyses around, some more reasonable than others, but to me they've gone beyond any conventional notion of narrative, and I don't care about applying its standards to try and dissect them. If they had such a deep, long-standing effect on my mind it's not because of some masterful example of incredible character writing, or because they effectively played with genre convention or any other reason that would align them too much to the idea of following any sort of proper "rule". I love them because I feel they perfectly succeeded in "crystallizing" a particular emotion in such a way that it only was possible because they were so effective in making me, as the viewer, feel just as lost as the characters in the indecipherable maze of their stories.

This is why I never was able to forget the scene of Alice reaching out to a Lain that had gotten so entangled in the trappings of her own mind and of the nature of reality. This is why I was hit so hard by the despair felt by the girl in Angel's Egg. It's a level of emotional resonance that lives through, and is empowered by, that very deliberate feeling of uncertainty, of being lost and alone in a scary, crazy world you'll never really understand. Sometimes, I just want to be touched by something without having to go out of my way to define it.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

honestly. half the fun of fantasy aus for me is the Food Descriptions

[wallofshrek]

imagine if salmon run is disabled forever after the big run because we killed literally all the salmonids and stole ONE BILLION of their eggs

like "oops! you all overfished too hard! there's no more salmonids to take eggs from!"

[official-english-major]

Not really an artist (this is my first attempt at digital art) but I was not seeing nearly enough fanart of Odysseus on Calypso's island

[daemon-in-my-head]

If the hivemind has decided I am the Monster Lover dude now, I shall oblige.

Shared Monster real estate leases and committing Monster tax fraud together. Gortash has several drafts of the real estate leases in his desk somewhere burried beneath incredibly boring documents where Durge won't find them.

He in fact signed with E. G., but he replaced the dots with hearts, and that's not professional, so he kept trying again. There is no presentable draft yet, and his efforts continue but, the secretary is slowly getting worried about his boss already 'misplacing' 20 drafts. One day, he's sure, he may be able to present it to his monstrous spouse.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

The First Memory

-----

Tequilla wakes up slowly in the dim morning light, his sibling still fast asleep next to him. It's laying nearly sideways in their bed, clutching a blue bunny stuffie that has been here far longer than he has. Their leg twitches as they dream. He's been happy, living here for this past month.

Has it really only been a month? He feels like there should have been some kind of celebration for that milestone.

He's been getting those faraway feelings for as long as he can remember. Which, admittedly, is not that long. His earliest memory is waking up in that forest all alone, wander for several days foraging for scraps, running and hiding (where did he learn those skills? Who taught him?). He wonders if his memory has always been bad. Poll told him that she hasn't noticed him forgetting anything lately, so maybe he just bumped his head. That's how it goes in the cartoons. You just bump your head a little and get amnesia, right? Then your friends show you something familiar and every memory comes back all at once.

Maybe they've been doing it wrong or something. The child's drawing, the bedroom, even his own grave haven't stirred any memories. Not even the items he's carried in his bag for weeks have stirred anything. Sometimes he considers getting rid of them, they're junk items anyways, but there's a weird gut feeling that makes him feel icky if he tries.

He wishes he knew what happened to them. He hopes they know he's okay. They seemed to care about him.

He wishes he missed them.

Tequilla paws at his eyes and sniffles. He's got to be the big kid now.

His mind feels fuzzy from sleep, eyes bleary.

From the kitchen, a voice emerges, loud and happy and full of love.

"Tequilla, my little peanut, come get your breakfast!"

Carefully, he slides out of bed. Poll's papa doesn't make breakfast very often, so this must be a special treat. Maybe it's for that celebration? He really feels like a month is cause for celebration.

The click of his claws on the hardwood echos in his mind as he pads down the hallway. The light from the windows startles him temporarily, and he rubs at his eyes to make the feeling go away. "Stardust," he mumbles, "what d-did you make for br-breakfast?"

...

He blinks a few times at what he's seeing.

There's a woman in the kitchen. Her curly brown hair cascades down her face and up into a bun, held up by a ribbon bow. Her face is full and wonderful, with golden eyes and large curling horns adorning her head. Her ears droop like his, but with soft brown fur on the inside and outside. Her outfit is overwhelmingly pink, consisting of a large poofy dress with many layers of tule and puffy short sleeves, frills decorating the ends of the sleeves and collar. Around her waist, nestled under her breast, is a large pink ribbon. Her feet are bare, but her wrists are adorned with large golden bands. She's a fat woman, something she always took pride in. She's only a few inches shorter than Dad.

"M..." Tequilla reaches out towards her, taking a short step forward.

She smiles and laughs, extending her hands out in an offering of a hug. "C'mere baby."

"M-momma!" He sobs, running to her with reckless abandon, burying his face in her plush dress.

She hugs him close and wipes the tears from his eyes. "What's wrong baby? Did you have a nightmare?"

Tequilla nods, leaning into her hand. "Momma I mmissed you s-s-so m-much." He struggles to speak through his sobs.

She tuts, crouching down to his level. He feels like a hatchling again, crying over breaking his marker by accident. "I'm not going anywhere, peanut."

"Wh-where did you go? Why can't I ffind you?" He asks through tears.

She cups his face. "I haven't gone anywhere, baby, I'm right here. That must have been some nightmare you had, huh?"

"I guess." He mumbles. "Where's... Wh-where's..." He trails off.

"C'mon golden boy, I've got your breakfast over here." She pats his shoulders, stands up, and pulls him along behind her.

He looks around the room, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Everything feels tilted in his mind's eye, slightly too bright. Too saturated.

"Momma? Where's... Wh..." His tail wraps around his leg. "Why can't I remmember their n-names? Why can't I r-remember their f-faces? What happened to mme, Momma? Where did I g-go?" He shakes her arm, tugs on her dress, does anything to get her to turn around and look at him.

Finally she turns around, a gentle smile on her lips. Her face is obscured now, like it's been scrubbed away by a sponge and covered over with marker. The bright world around him peels and bleeds away like an old painting, leaving just him and the woman in a dark void.

He hugs her tightly, eyes closed so he doesn't see what used to be her face. She strokes his hair as everything melts away.

Slowly, the world around him returns. He can feel the tears streaming down his face, the cold tile under his claws, the lights of the early morning. He squeezes tighter onto whatever he's holding onto.

What is he holding ont-

Tequilla jolts back, looking up at a concerned Stardust. His eyes catch onto their goatlike horns.

His cheeks burn. "S-s-ss-s-s-" He covers his mouth. "S-sorry, Stardust," he says with a little more concentration. "I d-d-don't know what that was."

It looks at him in the same way it looks at Poll when it communicates.

"S-sorry, I still can't understand you. I'll-I'll go wake up Poll."

Stardust grabs his hand, stopping him in his tracks. It holds his hand between two of it's own. It presses his hand against his heart, and it's own where a human heart would be.

He hasn't figured out how to understand Poll's papa yet, but it's meaning seems clear.

"Th-thankss, D- Stardust."

He walks back to the bedroom, tracing the markings on his arms.

[nivienne-grovant]

Junelezen Day 26 - Late

I'm sure you can be forgiven for running a little late

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

miss living in a building that had a convenience store nearby versus a restaurant bc before i could go in n be like o they got eggs. well i got a water boiler i could make me some night eggs. and the cashier wouldnt give a shit bc y would they. but with a restaurant if i get peckish i gotta ask myself oh am i feeling a soup dujour tonight. whaaddabouta basket of chicken fingies. pizza logs? crab stuffed sole? whatever the fuck a zango is? and the guy at the counter goes 'ohh u were in here an hour ago nd yet here u r again u greedy little freak' and i have to go 'yeagh im sorry' and he sneers but his eyes r glazed over bc he doesnt have any heart in this confrontation, he knows there is no real fight here, we r miserable forever. and i go 'potstickers pelase' and have to wait ten minutes and then the posttickers arent even good

[randolphbellmd]

truly humbling to go from gifted kid and top of my high school class to only kid accepted to ivy league school to graduating with honors and one of two students to go onto a PhD program to president of your field’s professional association to the idiot who took eight years to graduate and the only graduate you know to be unemployed with zero job prospects after finishing said PhD program

[yo9urt]

just watched gudetamas eggcellent adventure. eggcellent production